Dignity and Discrimination
by originella
Summary: 13-year-old Felicity Alexandra Rosewood (called Lexi) moves to Ocean City, NJ, when her mother gets a job as vice principal at Wagstaff School, three years after her father's death. After becoming best friends with Tina Belcher, Lexi meets Jordan Cagan on the first day of school. Jordan makes a disparaging comment - will these two ever be friends for the sake of their mutual ones?


Chapter One: New Town, New Place, New Start

 _New town. New place. New start_. The words filtered around in my head for what must've been the ten millionth time that afternoon as my mother followed the moving truck to our new place. I think my mother said that the city was called Ocean City, in New Jersey. This would be a hell of a trip for me—we'd been West Coasters since I was born; ever since my father died three years ago, I knew all my mom wanted was a change. She was the vice principal of my elementary school, so the fact that I never got in trouble within the school system was sort of a given when it came right down to it.

I slumped in the back seat, my arms crossed; I was thirteen-years-old, and my mother was so overprotective that I couldn't sit in the front seat. She said I could once I hit high school, but the days seemed to stretch out so far that I could never see that ever happening. I was in the eighth grade for crying out loud; I was old enough to sit up there, wasn't I?

"Sweetie, you're pouting again," my mom said, just as she hung up on her best friend since forever, a woman named Linda.

I shrug; to top everything off, I'd lost my headphones in one of my moving boxes, inexplicably several feet ahead of us. "Am not."

"Is this because I won't let you sit in the front?" she asked.

 _Dammit_ , I thought to myself; I hated it when she was right. "No, of course not," I reply, wishing that I had a cell phone with texting and internet privileges. My ex-therapist had said that my need for "material things" stemmed from the fact that I missed my father and that my mother seemed to make work her top priority; thus, I felt abandoned by the parental units and, therefore, needed the said "material things" to feel loved.

"Felicity."

I didn't bother to look up at her; instead, I pretended to be really fascinated with a loose string on the leather seat beside me.

"Felicity Alexandra Rosewood, I'm talking to you," my mother said, with just a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Ugh, _stop_ calling me that! All of it!" I cry; ever since entering elementary school, I had gone by "Lexi", a nickname of my middle name. Instead of running to the various other authorities about it, everyone had said that my early independence was good and that I should keep at it. "Lexi, Mom. Please," I begged.

She sighed, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "I know this is a big change, and that'll be hard to pick up with everyone else, but..."

"On a social level, right?" I ask her. "Not an educational one?"

She smiled, always loving the fact that she could legitimately brag to the other parents at the PTA meetings that I truly _was_ as smart as I seemed. "Of course, baby, you're right," she said. She kept following the moving truck until we arrived in suburbia, before getting out of the car and motioning for me to scooch over to get out on the sidewalk side. "Like it?" she asked.

I turned to get a good look at the house—in a physical sense—for the first time ever. What with my mother's generous salary of around 85K a year—plus the settlement after my father's death that she hadn't touched—we'd been able to get a beautiful house. It was an old craftsman, and my mother had always wanted to own a craftsman—plus it was a mere ten minutes away from the local school—so it all worked out. While my mother talked to the movers, I was permitted to go inside and check everything out, and I was glad to, never one to pass up looking around someplace new.

There was an entryway upon walking in, and what looked like a room for your coats, something that was very avant-garde for me. Further inside, to my right was the living room and to the left was the dining room; the kitchen was another door inside the dining room. Walking down the hallway, past a staircase, was another entrance to the kitchen, plus a second staircase beside a back door; if one came through the back door, you could walk down the hall or through the kitchen. Just beside the back door was a room which I was about a hundred and four percent sure that my mother was going to use for her office. Along the hallway, there had also been a closet which I didn't bother looking in, as well as a bathroom just off the kitchen. Now that the hallway out of the way, so to speak, I went up the stairs by the back door.

The hallway was about the same length as the one downstairs, and I came across a second bathroom. There were four bedrooms on that floor, I noticed, although I was perplexed at why there were four to begin with. I easily found my mother's bedroom—the largest—which had a bathroom all its own. The next-largest bedroom—which I assumed was a guest bedroom—had its own bathroom as well, and then I found the one with my things inside. My bedframe—the four-poster cherry wood one—already had its curtains and canopy set up, and I wondered if my mother had paid for someone to do that. It was made already as well, and my two windows both had curtains on them. Some of my John William Waterhouse paintings already dotted the walls, and I had a desk by the window without a window seat. Upon the desk was my desktop computer—all unpacked and set up for me—and I was shocked to see a brand-new flat screen mounted to the wall opposite my bed. There was a walk-in closet opposite my bed on its left, which I soon found also led to my own bathroom as well.

"Lexi, honey?" my mother calls, and I hear her coming up the stairs as I return to my bedroom. "Do you like it? Is the color all right?"

I nod. "Yeah, I like the green..."

She smiles. "Good—I picked out the paint myself. Most of your clothes should be in those boxes," she says, gesturing to them. "We'll give some a good wash now, if you like. Then find something to change into for dinner."

"Dinner?" I ask her, feeling exhausted even though it is only eleven o'clock in the morning. "We're going out later?"

"Well, honey, I'm not going to cook," she says, and laughs. "Come on, honey—I promise, nothing fancy."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll do my own laundry. I'm sure you have some unpacking to do, too."

My mother smiles, entering my room and kissing my forehead. "Thanks, honey; I almost forgot," she said, holding up her hand and leaving my room. She returns a moment later with my headphones, as well as a sleek-looking cell phone and a charger cable. "I picked this up in ones of the bigger cities we passed through, while we were in that mall and I left you at the bookstore for a few minutes," she says, handing it over to me.

"But...how did you...?"

"While you were taking a nap, I asked the GPS where a phone store was," she says, grinning. "You know what a heavy sleeper you are—I called ahead and gave my name and credit card number and got everything arranged for you. You have unlimited texting, and internet, as well as a decent amount of memory space. Do you like it?" she asked.

"Mom!" I cry out, standing on my toes and throwing my arms around her. "It's really amazing—thank you!"

She hugs me back. "I'm glad you like it," she says. She lets me go after a moment and fetches a laundry basket from the hallway. "Laundry," she says in a sing-song voice, kissing my forehead before slipping from my bedroom. "Cable and internet have been hooked up already," she calls from the hallway, before she proceeds to head downstairs.

I dig through the boxes and find some clothes, making my way down the opposite direction of the hallway, and finding that the laundry room is actually what I assumed to be the fourth bedroom. I dump the clothes into the washing machine along with some soap, before setting it to the correct setting, and watching the gush of water leave the provided spout. Shutting the machine, I wash my hands in the sink directly next to it, pleased to see that there is already liquid soap in there. I dry my hands on my jeans and make my way back to my bedroom, where I find the remote to the flat screen and decide to watch some cable.

After flipping around some channels, I decide on some black and white film I don't know the name of. I force myself to sit rigid upon the edge of my bed so as I don't accidentally fall asleep. An hour into my watching this film, I hear the washing machine beep and make my out of my room and back down the hall to change my clothes to the dryer. I turn the dial to the appropriate setting and shut the dryer door before returning to my bedroom.

Finally, my clothes are done and I said to do another load, just for the hell of it. I finish with the second load and bring it back to my bedroom, where I create a filing system for my clothes—pants, skirts, and dresses hung up in the massive closet, while my shirts are put in drawers. Only the frilly, fancy blouses are hung up beside my dresses. After I shove the unneeded boxes into the closet for the time being, I poke around on the internet for a while, and update my social media profile, and am surprised at how many sad face emoji's I get when I make the formal announcement that I've moved across the country.

Finally, the hours have passed and, around five-thirty, my mom says that I have to change for dinner. I opt for black capri leggings, a blouse, and black ballet flats because, even though she said it wasn't fancy, I still want to look presentable. I put on the silver locket—the last birthday present that my father gave me—with a diamond in the middle. After he died, I put our last photograph that we took together inside. We were at the annual summer fair in Washington State, where I grew up, and we're crammed into this little photo booth. It was all very classy and done in black and white; my mom had opted not to go, and just let me have my police detective father to myself that day, on a rare day off.

"Ready, honey?" my mom asks, coming into my room. She's wearing a knee-length, khaki skirt with a purple blouse and a simple amethyst necklace. She smiles at me and grabs my brush, pulling it gently through my raven hair before putting my headband upon it. "Now you're ready," she says, taking me by the hand and leading me downstairs, my cell phone in hand.

It was still in the mid-sixties, so she didn't make me wear a sweater, which I inwardly thanked her for. We got back in the car, and she motioned for me to sit up front, and my heart leapt at this change in pace. We drove down the street and, within a few minutes, had left suburbia and were on a main street full of various businesses from left to right. I turned and looked at what looked like a wharf, and saw several fair rides there.

"I hear that's a good spot to hang out," my mom puts in.

I fiddle with my locket. "Is it?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah—I hear things," she says.

"Mom?" I ask her.

"Yeah, honey?" she says, driving the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit.

"Where are we going?"

"To get dinner, sweetheart," she says. We continue pulling down the street, and park directly next to a burger restaurant, across the street from an Italian place, and my mom stops the car. "Remember my friend Linda?"

I shrug. "Not really..."

"We came out here to see her when you were two," she explains. "She had a daughter named Tina, and a husband named Bob. She's still with Bob, and they had two more kids—Gene, who's eleven, and then Louise, who's nine."

"And Tina is...?"

"Thirteen, like you. We actually found out that she and I were pregnant around the same time—go figure!" my mom says, getting out of the car, and I quickly move to do the same. "This is Bob and Linda's house," she explains. We walk up to a door beside the burger restaurant and my mother knocks on it; a moment later, the door opens and a woman in blue jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt answers.

"Annie!" the woman says, embracing my mother; her dark eyes appearing larger beneath her red glasses, and her hair looks like that of a typical housewife—it's as black as mine is and it flips at the ends. Pulling back from my mother, she looks down at me. "Felicity? That you, honey?"

I nod. "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Belcher," I say, quickly managing to recall her last name. "And please, call me 'Lexi'."

"Oh, Lexi, honey, please call me Linda. Mrs. Belcher was my mother—well, not exactly. But doesn't matter, doesn't matter. Come in, friends!" she says, pulling us inside and shutting the door behind us. "Go on up," she says.

Before us is a large staircase, which my mother pushes me to climb, and I do, and I end up in their living room. To the left is the kitchen, a first door is kitty corner to me, and straight ahead is a hallway with even more doors. I step to the side to allow my mother and Linda to pass me.

"Bobby, where are you?" Linda asks.

Bob Belcher peers around the wall of the kitchen. "Right here, Linda," he says. He has closely cropped black hair and a mustache; he wears jeans and a white T-shirt and appears to be cooking something. "Is that Annie and Felicity?"

"Hey, Bob!" my mom calls, walking into the kitchen, where they hug briefly. "Oh, that smells delicious! What is it?"

"Oh, it's just dinner," he says. "Just tossing a salad right now, and the macaroni casserole is in the oven."

"Thanks, Bob!" my mother says, clapping her hands as she returns into the living room. "Linda, where are the kids?"

"I don't know," she says. "Half the time I just don't know... They're usually watching T.V. right about now... Tina, Gene, Louise! Come on out now! We got company."

Three doors along the hallway opens, and three of my new peers come walking out and down the hall. The first one—Tina—is about my height with above-the-shoulder length black hair, glasses, and wears a pale blue shirt, a dark blue skirt, almost-to-the-knee white socks with red stripes, and black Converse high tops. The second is Gene, obviously, who has short, black hair, a yellow shirt, a large-ish stomach, and pale blue-gray shorts, with red Converse. The last is Louise, who clearly has a liking of rabbits, due to her pink hat with ears; she wears her black hair in two short pigtails, a green dress, and black ballet flats like mine, the only difference being that I have bigger feet and mine are patent leather, whereas hers are matte.

"Teen, Gene, Louise, say hi to Mrs. Rosewood—your new vice principal," Linda tells them.

"Nice to meet you all," my mother says.

"And this is her daughter, Lexi," Linda says.

"Lexi? That must be short for something," Tina says slowly.

"Yeah! Obviously, it's Alexandra," Gene barks.

"But our mother always said your name was 'Felicity'," Louise says, putting on a thinking face. "It looks like we have a mystery on our hands..."

I laugh at Louise. "Not really. My name is Felicity Alexandra Rosewood, but I go by 'Lexi', a nickname of my middle name."

"Oh," Louise replies, looking a little disappointed as she walks past me and sits on the couch, turning on the T.V.

"Do you like fart sounds?!" Gene demands.

I feel my eyes widen. "Excuse me?" I ask him.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Gene says, walking past me and sitting next to Louise on the couch.

"Do you like horses?" Tina asks.

I smile at that. "Yeah," I reply, smiling at the memory. "I had an uncle who owned a ranch in Texas."

Tina stepped forward. "So, you've actually ridden a horse?"

I nod. "Sure, lots of times."

"Will you come to my room and tell me all about it?" she asks.

I turn and look at my mom. "Can we?" I ask.

My mother beams. "Of course, honey," she replies.

"We'll tell you girls when dinner's ready," Linda promises. "Annie, I bought your favorite merlot," she says as they walk into the kitchen again.

"My room is down here," Tina says.

We walk into her room, which looks like a shrine to horses. Her bed takes up most of the room; there is a blue rug placed upon the pink carpet, while each side of her bed has a nightstand—one wicker, with a boom box on top with a little nook on the bottom filled with books; the second one is pink and has two drawers and a lamp, more books, and a horse placed on top. To the diagonal right of the foot of her bed is a pink vanity table, complete with a chest of drawers, which has a mirror, a trinket box, and some bottles of nail polish, makeup, and perfume. Along the wall by her blue rug is a full bookshelf, on which has more horses, and a wicker basket for her laundry next to it. Her walls are decorated with various posters of horses, and her wall by her solo window has a desk, which I can see she used to write, as there are many filled composition books on it.

"You can sit," Tina says, moving to sit on the foot of her bed, her purple bedspread not out of place in here. "On the bed or on the desk chair—either is fine."

I sit beside her on the bed; although she seems plenty unique, I can see almost immediately how harmless and kind and devoted to horses Tina really seems to be in the grand scheme of things. "What do you want to know?"

"What month were you born?"

"November. You?"

"Doesn't matter, we're both thirteen. Like reading?"

"Love reading," I reply. "Favorite book?"

"Anything with horses or some suggestive content. You?"

"Suggestive content with horses?" I ask her.

"No, either suggestive content or horses, not put together. What's your favorite book?" she asks me again.

"Either _The Fault in Our Stars_ or _The Selection_ series," I reply.

"Favorite movie?"

"Part two of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ or _Pride and Prejudice_ ," I tell her quickly.

"Hollywood or BBC?"

"Hollywood," I reply.

"Good choice. Favorite color?"

"Green or pink."

"Sweet, I like those, too. Favorite T.V. show?"

"Anything but _The Bachelor_ or _The_ Bachelorette—I like to watch them ironically and just laugh at how pathetic everyone sounds."

"That's the way to watch those shows," Tina says approvingly to me. "Now, about those horses..."

"Sure," I reply. "My uncle Theo bought a ranch and married his wife, Nannette, and they live down there. Went there pretty much every summer until about three years ago."

"What happened?" Tina asked.

"My dad died," I reply.

"I'm sorry," Tina says.

I shrug. "It's okay. It was quick."

"Was he sick?" Tina asks, curiously.

"Not like that—cancer eats away at everything. His mind was pretty sick, at the end, after all he saw."

"What did he see?" Tina wants to know.

"Carnage, murder, devastation," I reply. "He was a cop. He had just taken and passed the sergeant's exam, and was next in line to take over his department, when one of the men he put away was released on parole. Somehow, he figured out where my dad was. It was so quick—one minute, there's my dad, sitting at a stoplight to get back to the squad room, the next minute, the guy's blowing his brains out."

"What happened to the guy?" Tina asks, her eyes wide.

"He's on death row," I reply. "The governor in Washington State issued a ban on the death penalty for a while but made an exception for my father's killer. My mom and I don't know when he's going to die yet, but I know I want to be there when it happens."

"Wow," Tina says softly.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I go on and on about talking about my dad and sometimes I forget about who I'm talking to... We just met..."

"We met when we were little," Tina says with a smile. "It's okay, really, I won't say anything."

"So," I ask, "what's school like?"

"Wagstaff? Oh, you'll love it," Tina assures me. "We go back next week after summer vacation—eighth grade is going to be fantastic!"

"Where do Gene and Louise go?" I ask.

"Oh, Wagstaff's an elementary and middle school," Tina tells me. "It's a pretty typical place, but watch out for Tammy and Jocelyn, they can get really mean, and they're in our grade."

"Gotcha," I reply.

"Louise hangs out mostly with Andy and Ollie—they're twins and are the younger kids of Jimmy Pesto, who owns the Italian restaurant across the street. Him and my dad hate each other, which is why he hates it that I like..."

"That you like what? Or is it a who?" I ask.

Tina sighs. "I like Jimmy Pesto's older son, Jimmy Jr. He's in our grade too and he has this great...butt," she whispers. "And he dances like a Footloose god. He was my first kiss, and I love him. We kissed on my thirteenth birthday..." She smiles at the memory. "Then there's Jimmy Jr.'s best friend, Zeke, who loves to wrestle and keep Jimmy Jr. away from me."

"He does?" I ask her.

Tina nods. "Yeah—Tammy also has a thing for Zeke."

I nod. "Noted."

"Then there's Regular Sized Rudy who Louise, Gene, and I are friends with. He's nice, I guess. Then there's Darryl—I had a thing for him once, but Jimmy Jr. really is the only one for me."

I nod. "Well, good. At least you have somebody."

"That's the problem," Tina says. "It doesn't seem to matter to Jimmy Jr. that we've kissed—a few times. He doesn't seem to remember that we're dating."

"We'll fix that soon," I tell her. "Promise."

The following Tuesday, I spend a few minutes that first day getting ready for school, and wonder who will be impressed by a new student. I don't want anyone to be impressed by me; thankfully, my mother has seen to it that all my new teachers will call me "Lexi". I select my favorite outfit which is a knee-length, dark green flared skirt, a white blouse, and black suspenders. I keep my silver locket on, brush my hair and teeth, and put my black headband on. I put on my vanilla lip gloss for good luck before putting everything in my backpack, collecting my cell phone and headphones, and leave my bedroom.

My mother meets me in the hallway, smiling at my clothes. "You look beautiful, Lex," she says, handing over a check for lunch money. She also motions for me to choose something to wear to keep warm, and I opt for my new black leather jacket that day.

We walk outside to her car and I am pleased to sit in the front seat that morning. I watch the houses and such go by as we drive down the main street, and I am happy that we don't have to wait in the long line of cars, full of parents waiting to dump their children at this institution of learning. My mom pulls into the parking lot and finds her new parking space, the impressive new name plate stating: ANDROMEDA ROSEWOOD, VICE PRINCIPAL in big, bold letters. Mom parks the car, quickly kisses my forehead, and I head out of the car and into the front entrance, while my mother heads in via the staff entrance.

"Over here!" Tina calls, walking up to me in the hallway. "You have to go to the main office to get your combination lock. You just started here... Did you get a packet in the mail, or...?"

I smile at Tina. "Yeah, I got it—my mom's the VP, remember?"

"Right," Tina says. "So, you got your combination lock, then?"

"And class list," I say. "My locker number is 418."

"Mine's 417—right next door!" Tina says. "Come on, I'll show you the best way to get there, okay?"

"Sure," I reply, following her. We arrive at our new lockers and I open it up, hanging up my leather jacket, and digging through my backpack. "I know that class list is in here somewhere... Here it is!" I take it out. "Health and Physical Education, Honors Language Arts, Honors Geometry, Honors Science, European Social Studies, Advanced Spanish, and Home Life. And I also have cello lessons on weekends, plus I'm going out for the musical."

"It's _Grease_ this year," Tina informs me. "Rumor has it that Tammy is already a shoe-in for Sandy."

"Why?" I ask her, looking over my books. "Does she actually have the talent needed to carry a musical like that?"

"Who knows?" Tina replies. "I'd pay to see her sing...well."

There is a snicker from behind me then, and I watch to see Tina visibly tense up at the arrival at someone else. She looks positively angry at the experience, and I almost immediately sense why. Tammy had to have been right behind me at precisely that moment.

"Tina, there's probably only room in the cheap seats," the girl sneers.

Immediately, I turn around, and Tammy looks shocked. "You must be Tammy," I say, addressing the girl in front of me.

Tammy was blonde, and wore a bit of her hair up in a 1980's rendition of a head ponytail. She wore green eyeshadow, pink lipstick, and one of her shoulders was exposed due to the wide collar of her shirt. She also wore gray leggings and simple gray flats. "I'm Tammy. Who are you, new girl?"

"Lexi Rosewood," I reply. "I'm the vice principal's daughter."

Tammy gulps. "Oh," she says.

"Tammy, who's that?" asks another girl, who I assume to be Jocelyn. "Why are you talking to her without me?" Jocelyn is taller than Tammy, and wears all her paler blonde hair up in a side ponytail. Jocelyn wears a purple shirt which exposes her midriff, and blue jeans which hug her figure. "Who is she?" Jocelyn asks again, obviously impatient.

"The new VP's daughter," Tammy says, her arms now crossed. "She'll probably get mad at us for the way we're dressed or something."

"Hotter than her?" Jocelyn asks.

"So much," Tammy replies, laughing.

"That's one person's opinion," I reply levelly.

Tammy looks shocked. "C'mon Jocelyn, let's go," she says, hauling Jocelyn away from us, disgusted.

"That was amazing!" Tina says. "I always just stand there or make quiet comments until one of us has to leave."

I shrug. "All in a day's work," I reply. I decide to take my backpack with me that day, so I shut my locker. "So, where's your Jimmy Jr.?"

"He might be in the cafeteria for breakfast," Tina replies. "Let's go check."

"Good," I say. "I have a check for the lunch ladies to establish my account. And I'm starving. Let's go."

"Okay," Tina says. We make our way down the school hallway, and soon find our way to the cafeteria, where some people are already hanging out and eating breakfast. We get in line and Tina urges me to go first. My mom had arranged with the school to have a picture of me put onto my new school ID, which had already been sent in the mail with the school packet. After selecting sausage, hash browns, fried eggs, a strawberry smoothie, and a chocolate croissant, I hand over the check to one of the ladies, who adds it to my account and welcomes me to the school.

"Over there—by the window," Tina says, guiding me across the lunchroom and towards a table with three boys. At the table next to it are Gene and Louise, as well as two boys which I assume are Andy and Ollie.

"That him?" I ask, nodding to a lean boy with orange hair.

"Yeah," Tina replies, stepping forward. "Hey, Jimmy Jr.," she says.

"Hey, Tina," Jimmy Jr. says, and I immediately detect a speech impediment, but whatever floats your boat... "How was your summer?"

"Pretty good," Tina replies. "How was yours?"

"Fine," he says. "Who's that? Who are you?" he asks me.

"I'm Lexi Rosewood," I reply, "Vice Principal Rosewood's daughter."

"Careful J-Ju!" cries out a boy who is thicker than Jimmy Jr.; he has curly brown hair and speaks with what sounds like a cross between a New York and Southern accent. "She may be a double agent for the enemy!"

"No, she's not, Zeke," Tina says quickly. "Lexi is my friend."

"We like friends!" says Andy, who I only know is Andy based upon the 'A' on his shirt.

"We sure do!" cries Ollie. "I love you, Andy!"

"I love you, Ollie!" Andy cries out.

"Trying to read here," says the third boy at Jimmy Jr.'s and Zeke's table.

"Jordan, it's cool," Jimmy Jr. says. "Come on, we haven't seen any of these people since school ended in June."

Jordan looks up, annoyed. "You all think that this Lexi person is a hot commodity because she's a new student—well, she's not." He slams his particularly thick volume shut. "She's just new, nothing more, nothing less."

"Excuse me," I say.

"What?" Jordan demands.

"You don't know me," I say, a bit defensively.

He rolls his eyes. "No, I don't. All I want right now is to read my book."

I cross my arms. "What are you reading?"

"Does it matter?" he huffs.

Now, _I'm_ tempted to roll my eyes. "That wasn't the question."

"I don't care about the question," he mutters.

"Would you just answer the question?" I say, exasperated.

"I don't want to," he says.

"And why not?" I demand.

"This book is sacred," he says.

"If it's the bible..." I say, annoyed.

"Not the bible," Jordan says.

"Then what is it if it's so sacred?" I cry out.

"Doesn't matter," Jordan says again.

"First edition?" I guess.

"Dammit," Jordan says, getting to his feet. "Tina, make sure you rein her in next time, will you?"

"Rein her...?!" I go close to Jordan, tempted to hit him, but instead knock the book out of his hands. "I am _not_ a horse!" I cry out.

Jordan glares at me, then picks up his book, adjusts his backpack, and leaves the cafeteria without another word.

"Who was that?" I ask Tina, in a whispered tone.

"Jordan Cagan," she replies. "Not the best kisser, if I do say so myself. But, then again, I've only kissed _two_ other boys," Tina says, loud enough for Jimmy Jr. to hear us.

"Hey!" he says, annoyed.

I shrug, pursing my lips. "Cross your fingers..."

"Why?" Tina asks.

I look at her. "If I have to share a class with Jordan and his chauvinistic ways, I don't know what I'll do." I lower into my seat and eat my breakfast in a methodic manner. "Not terrible," I say to Tina.

"Wait until lunch," Louise warns me. "That's when they try to slip bug parts into our food—the FDA says they can."

"Do you even know what that is?" I ask.

"Sure," Gene says, "Fantastic Dynamite Aliment."

I blink. "How do you know that word? Aliment?"

"Blame my parents, Lexi," he replies. "Fast food restaurant... You've got to pick this stuff up. I mean, your mom must've taught you something about being a VP, right?"

I shrug. "I guess so..."

I finish my breakfast and the bell rings. I dump my trash and follow Tina, because we have the same physical education. I hand over a five-dollar bill in the girl's locker room to pay for gym clothes, crossing my fingers that I'll be able to swap them out for something nicer at some point. I go with Tina out into the gym, and feel relief flood through me when I don't see Jordan around.

"Doing okay?" Tina asks.

I nod. "At this point," I reply.


End file.
